Destiny Does Not Send us Heralds
by DwarvenGirl
Summary: Healer Draco Malfoy has been trying to rectify his past sins for years. But, inevitably, his past will come back to haunt him...Also, Original Female character hijinks!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Lenore's POV

Healer Draco Malfoy was writing a report, his silver blond head stooped over the paper, a heavy frown darkening his sharp, handsome features. Every few minutes, he would refer to a parchment at his left hand, nod once or twice, and continue with his careful note-taking, the quill scratching the heavy parchment.

Lenore Crowe-Darrington watched him covertly under long lashes, her hair falling mutinously into her eyes as she struggled to concentrate on the book in her lap. She knew the story, they all did. He had left his classmates, joined He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and then ran off with his equally cowardly parents and left even his precious Death Eaters to their fate. It was decided that this was 'rebelling' against the Dark Lord, thus, his family escaped imprisonment.

He was lucky anyone had considered him for continued education and employment, and she mentally mocked him, but her inner voice seemed unsure of itself, her memory dwelling incessantly on his tireless efforts to save a young witch who had gotten shot in the chest with the ugly bolt of a crossbow just a day before...

She berated herself, slapping the book shut aggressively and getting to her feet. He was a traitor, a coward, and as far as she was concerned, he could go kiss a dementor. Draco glanced up, his gray eyes questioning. She stared at him. He looked exhausted, ugly purplish circles bruising the pale skin around his eyes. The fingers that wrapped around the writing quill were shaking, and she felt a momentary stab of worry for him. Angry at the fleeting thought, her eyes flicked to his left arm, where she knew the Dark Mark to be hidden, and she glared at that spot pointedly. .

"Are you well, Lenore?" he asked, a guarded look stealing into his eyes.

"Yes, Healer Malfoy," she answered shortly, wrenching her eyes from the black sleeve. "Will you be requiring anything of me before my shift ends?"

A range of emotions playing upon his face, Draco finally shook his head. "No, you may go," he replied, a cool edge making the dismissal hard as flint. She saw him spasmodically wrench his sleeve down as she left the room.

As a muggle-born, Lenore was more than familiar with the Tube, and so it was with very little effort she got on and was soon swept away to her small, neat flat. Unlocking the door and swinging it open, she winced as it pounded the wall, deepening the hollow that already marred the white wall. Locking it and cursing at yet another home repair, Lenore kicked off her shoes, and shrugging out of her robes, she fell face down on the capacious couch, asleep in moments...

_She walked through the silent corridors of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. It was unusual for the hospital to be this silent, but dream Lenore did not seem to mind this abnormality; she was looking for something. Wandering through the halls, her footsteps sounding muffled and distant, a draft raised goose pimples upon her bare arms. A door suddenly appeared at the end of the seeming endless hall, and with unhesitating surety, she knew this was what she had been looking for. _

_Pushing through the door, she approached the desk that sat in the center of the room, apparently the only thing in the room. Draco Malfoy glanced up at her, his gray eyes tarnished silver. Lenore walked around the desk, her fingertips trailing upon its sanded surface. _

_Draco licked his lips, his eyes worshiping her body's curves like a benediction, but upon his lips lay objections. _

"_We can't do this," he whispered as she ran cool fingertips along his jaw. She straddled his lap, tilting his head up, and she kissed him. He groaned into her mouth, his hands running up her back, which was suddenly bare under his searching fingers. He broke the kiss, but only to nibble her jaw and throat, and she threw back her head, fingers tangling in his silver blond hair. _

_His hands running down her back, he braced her derriere, and stood to place her on the desk, kissing her more roughly. She wrapped her legs around his waist, nipping at his lip with a growl. The sounds of paperwork, letter openers, and quills weltered to the floor as he swept things from the desk to lay her back, her hair splaying like ink across the desk. She could feel his hands running up and down her thighs, and she growled again in frustration as he patently avoided where she really wanted him to touch her..._

Lenore awoke with such a start that, with a scream, she fell from the couch and landed with a hard bump onto the floor.

"What the bloody hell?" she gasped in shock, leaping up from her undignified sprawl. She was dreaming about _**Draco Malfoy?! **_And judging from the state of her panties, she had enjoyed it. A lot.

Running nerveless fingers through her greasy hair, she paced to the kitchen and back distractedly. _How could she look him in the eye_? She agonized, halfheartedly glancing at the clock, and cursed loudly at the time.

After a quick shower, she dressed and flew to the Tube. Thankfully right on time, she pushed through the window that sported a sign 'Closed for Refurbishment', and soon found herself walking into the front vestibule of st. Mungo's, and nodding to the Welcome Witch, proceeded up the stairs to Healer Malfoy's office. Straightening her robes, and clenching her jaw, she rapped on the door resolutely, her traitorous mind supplying a perfect picture of Draco's muscled body pinning her to his desk, his breath hot on her throat...

Healer Malfoy opened the door, rubbing distractedly at his temple, his face had taken on the grayish hue of exhaustion and pain. Lenore gaped at him, an ugly blush staining her cheeks darkly.

"What do you want, Darrington," he asked sharply.

"I-I just wanted to know what duties you wanted me to do for you-" she stuttered awkwardly, noticing the wince he gave at her voice. She caught sight of several empty alcohol bottles laying on the desk, and Draco's white robes were heavily wrinkled.

Catching the line of her gaze, a muscle in his cheek twitched heavily, and he stepped into her personal space with surprisingly little problem. She could smell the alcohol on his breath as it warmed her cheek. Her breath hitched, and she realized muzzily that he was inebriated.

"Not unless it involves you being on your knees," he replied softly, his voice venomous. He nipped her ear. Cursing how hard her heart hammered a tattoo within her ribcage, she pushed him back into his office, closing the door behind her.

She backed him until he hit his desk, rattling the empty bottles. Her wand pushed under his jaw, dimpling the smooth, pale skin, scratching against the stubble that was already growing there. Anger and disgust had quickly replaced her momentary arousal, and her hand shook.

His gray eyes were dead. He laughed breathlessly. "Do it," he mocked her. "You will be doing me a favor. So use it. Use the Unforgivable Curses. Every single one; make me suffer," he laughed. "I know you've dreamed about killing me."

Lenore stared at him, the wand slipping from his throat. "_Moderatus abstemia_," she commanded softly, touching his forehead.

Turning, she walked away. There was the sound of a bottle shattering to the floor, and she turned around to look at Draco, now sober due to her spells, and his expression was unreadable.

"Get some rest, Doctor," she asserted firmly, her voice utterly professional. "You have a long day ahead of you."

And with a swish of robes, Lenore was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Draco's POV

Draco sank to his chair, cradling his forehead in his hands, feeling as if he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. It was like he was back in Hogwarts, the same feeling of insecurity, and humiliation welling up in him like bile. It was always someone: someone who was so much better than he. He was an evil person, he always would be, no matter how goddamn hard he tried, there would always be a Harry Potter, looming above him, superior and venerated, and they mocked him.

'I tried,' he wanted to scream, but Lenore's hurt disgust floated before his eyes like a dark spectre. He clawed his finger through his hair. He knew it was a lost cause when he he entered Healing. There was only so much penance he could pay, and still draw breath, but he had wanted to save lives somehow undo what had been done.

It was selfish, he realized as he jumped up to pace around the room. In an infantile and naïve way to make himself feel better, he shied away from his past attempts at this, he chose a career that would be, laughable, noble. Wipe away his sins, as if doing one or two good deeds would erase everything that had happened. What the hell was he thinking?

Stooping to lean on the desk, he took deep breaths, tamping down his feelings as always, compartmentalizing the pain. He had a job to do, and by Merlin he was going to do it, regardless of some little Mudblood's disapproval.

The common room of the hospital was empty, as usual. Shedding his dirty robes, he stepped into the shower, the warm water running across his scarred shoulders, the long-healed skin no longer tender. As he washed, he thought about Lenore. How the hell was he going to keep their work professional now? She was a damn good assistant, the best he'd ever worked with, and even though he knew she loathed him, she had never let it interfere with their work. Now...

He cursed. Well now the stupid Mudblood bitch was going to transfer after this. _Oh well_, he thought, rinsing his hair with overly rigorous scrubs. _At least she will no longer distract me while I'm trying to-_

He stopped suddenly, letting the soap drip down his face. Distract? She wasn't distracting him! _She was just a woman, and it had been awhile_, he decided firmly, finishing his shower, concerned with the time.

Throwing on a new pair of spotless, starched robes, he stalked out of the common room, adopting his shield of untouchable confidence. Several nurses stared at him as he passed, expressions of disgust and interest warring with their features; he ignored them, accustomed to the reaction after so long.

Lenore Crowe-Darrington sat staring blankly at her parchment, her quill poised, motionless, over it's ecru surface. She had a Thousand-Mile-Stare that Draco was unaccustomed to seeing on her face. When it came to work at the hospital, she reminded him annoyingly of that Hermione Granger he had hated so much in school. Although, in looks, they could not have been more different...Lenore, with her raven dark hair, smooth skin, and dark glasses behind which emerald green eyes glared at him disapprovingly...

"Well?" he snapped, angry at his body's reaction to her. "Are you just going to stare at the wall all day, or do we have some kind of work to do?"

Lenore gave a violent start, dropping her parchment and quill. With a curse, she dove after them, giving him a dark glare.

"On First, a wizard was just admitted with severe burns, Smethwyck wants you to work on it. He says it looks like a possible Dragon attack. The patient's name is Julian North."

Draco sighed, rubbing his temple as his headache gave him an especially sharp twinge. He nodded, trying to get into the game.

"Let's go take a look, then."

Arrival on the First Floor showed Draco exactly what he was afraid of. Patients were sitting up in their beds, staring at the new arrival: a man screaming and thrashing on a bed, held down by two assistant Healers. Draco ran over to him, glancing him over with a quick, practiced eye.

Grabbing Lenore's arm, he yelled over the man's shrieks of agony. "This is no dragon burn! Get me Ague incense, quickly!"

His wand at the ready, he began to chant melodically, touching the man's forehead and chest softly as he did so. Lenore was soon back at his side, lighting the Ague incense with a flick of her wand and a whispered command.

Draco continued his incantation, his voice even and cool, apparently unaware of his patient's twisting and pleading for him to stop his ministrations. He could feel fear twisting like smoke in his guts; he was almost positive he could not save this man's life. He was familiar with the curse laid on this man, it had been Walden Macnair's specialty. Draco did not want to dwell on THAT particular memory...

The man had stopped screaming: blood was bubbling from his mouth in sickening coughs. Draco tried every healing incantation, word, and every prayer he knew, and by the time the realization had sunk in that his patient was dead, glazed eyes staring up at the ceiling, he was liberally sprayed with blood and sputum, his wand limp in his hand.

He turned to stare at Lenore, who gaped at him. "Call it," he said dully, walking over to the sink to wash. He realized that the drying blood had glued his wand to his palm, and he tore it away with difficulty, laying it next to him with precision.

He stopped short, letting the water tumble through his fingers. Smethwyck knew. He knew Draco would recognize the curse used against this man. He knew there was no hope that Draco could fix it; he just wanted to throw this information into the young Healer's face.

Grabbing up his bloody wand, Draco pushed Lenore aside and headed out the door. Stalking through the corridor, he past assistants, patients fellow Healers, unmindful of the stares at his blood splashed robes and face.

Bursting into Hippocrate**s**** Smethwyck's office, he ignored the couple who were seated before the Healer-In-Charge as they swiveled in their chairs, shocked at the interruption. **

**"You manky pillock," he declared softly, his gray eyes murderous. Smethwyck ****looked up at him, slowly rising from his seat. He gestured to the couple, whose mouths were hanging open in shock at Draco's comment. **

**"If you would excuse me," he said politely, his eyes never leaving Draco's. 'We will continue this as soon as I have taken care of...this." **

**"You ****seem very well-informed as to my life, Smethwyck****," Draco purred menacingly as the couple filed cautiously past him, their expressions morphing from shock to avid curiosity. "****_Cludo_****," he snapped and the door slammed shut behind them. **

**"Yes," the other man replied, steepling his fingers. "Many of us took it upon ourselves to learn about the Death Eaters, Mr Malfoy. Some of us did more work than others in that regard." **

**"****I have only seen the curse laid upon Julian North used by one man," Draco said coolly after a moment of silence. "Specifically because of the extreme pain caused before death-"**

**"There was a letter," Smethwyck interrupted. **

**"****Excuse me?"**

**"There was a parchment nailed to Mr North's hand." Smethwyck handed Draco a liberally ink and blood stained roll of parchment, a heavy scrawl digging into its surface. **

**"****Nailed?" Draco asked as if if doubting his own ears. He had witnessed Walden Macnair's brutality more than once, he did not have to be told twice. The muddy strokes of the words scrawled across the page, heavy and crude. ****His eyes caught his name; it was addressed to him. He felt his blood run cold, and he swallowed heavily, terror making his heart hammer his ribs. **

**_Draco Malfoy,_**

**_Thought I would send you a little gift, boy. It's been a while since we talked last. You know, since you defected and left us to our own devices. You'll be happy to note that I escaped the special little Azkaban roundup, and I have some little surprises planned for all of the skanky prats at the Ministry. Hear _****_Shacklebolt_****_ got the Big Job. Must congratulate him and all that. _**

**_You know, I never knew how much of a little wanker you really were, Draco. But don't worry, I will give you a show you will never forget, m'boy. I always took you for a man who liked to watch. _**

**_See you around. If you come after me, which we both know you won't, but if you do, I will be preparing something special for mummy and dad, and it won't be quick. Just some food for thought._**

**Draco tossed the letter back onto Smethwyck's desk, the casual movement barely hiding how hard his hands shook. **

**"You read it, I assume?" he asked rhetorically, a bitter laugh scraping his throat. "Of course you did." **

**"You have worked here for a reasonable length of time, Malfoy," Smethwyck told him, gazing intently at his steepled fingers. "And thus far, you have done nothing but your job. I confess, when I was notified by the Ministry that you had been approved as a Healer, I ****resigned. They, of course, refused to accept my resignation, and I am glad of that. If nothing but to see your work." he held up a hand. "Let's be clear, I still hate you, Malfoy. But your work is stellar. You and Assistant Darrington make one of the best teams to ever grace this hospitals corridors."**

**"Is there an eventual point in this treatise?" asked Draco, his voice back to its normal drawl. His armor was back up, impregnable and hard, a skill ****he had perfected after all these years, and it had held strong, even after everything. **

**The Healer-In-Charge gave him a hard look. "Indeed," he rumbled. ****Leaning forward, he met Draco's eyes with a steely glance. "If your history of bad decisions affect the safety of anyone in this hospital, I will personally kill you, Draco Malfoy."**

**Staring into Hippocrates Smethwyck's eyes, Draco began to laugh. It was a truly delighted sound, and Smethwyck leaned all the way back in his chair, his bushy eyebrows almost in his hairline. **

**"Good luck doing that before Lenore Crowe-****Darrington****," ****retorted Draco as he spun on his heel and left the Healer-In-Charge staring incredulously after him. **


End file.
